Authors Notes: I am very surprised at how liked this is, I was for ssure thinking that this would be treated like therapy it is but I'm glad some enjoy it. Tank you for all your reviews and favourites and follows!

Obsession

Thom E. Gemcity may have been an alternate identity but for his fans he was very much real. When fanmail becomes increasingly fanatical and many escalate rapidly through the three stages, Timothy McGee is in danger from a stalker who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. And what he wants, is Tim. McGee-Centric. Casefile.

By Captain Harley Quinn
Part Five of Obsession
Sünden der Väter

"...o'powerful love, that in some respects makes a beast a man, in some other, a man a beast..."

- William Shakespeare

"...you put someone on a pedestal, and all of a suddenly, from that perspective you notice what is wrong..."

- Jodie Picoult

Though Tim knew better than to ever doubt his boss's words, it was only when they pulled into the driveway and the engine stopped without clattering over the metal grate that had always signified when Tim was pulling into his apartment car park did Tim actually realise that Gibbs was telling the truth and had gone back to his own house. He tried to ignore the pang in his gut when he realised he had only even been in this house once before and even then, that had been only for work.

He knew that Ziva and Tony, and Kate when she had still been alive, had been regular visitors at the house of Gibbs and had never been turned away, not once and had always been welcomed with Gibbs usual gruffness that would usually be smoothed over when faced with a dilemma of his team mates.

Shaking his head, he did not notice Gibbs glance at him concernedly, before he threw the truck door wide and clambered out, stumbling slightly as a dizzy spell passed over him, making his vision waiver uncertainly for a moment as he clutched the still open vehicle door.

Frowning almost loudly, Gibbs hurried around the truck grasping McGees unused arm, allowing the younger man to steady himself. As he did so, he noted the darkening circles beneath his agents eyes and how much thinner he felt and couldn't quite completely swallow the sudden spark of worry; Tim had really slimmed down in the past years - even Gibbs had heard about how Tim had lost fifteen pounds in a matter of weeks - and the younger man didn't really have any much weight left to loose and Gibbs knew that Tim was in danger of loosing too much weight which could both severely impact his health and his career; Gibbs had accidentally overheard Vance muttering to SECNAV over the phone how he wanted a man like Timothy McGee in the office and he would do everything he could.

Gibbs couldn't blame him.

Timothy no middle name McGee was a very hard working, conscientious, polite man who went out of his way to make sure everyone was happy and had what they needed and had often disregarded his own needs or had put people before him and wasn't often benefited due to his sacrifice.

However, his shy, quiet nature had also lead Timothy McGee to be a victim of Tony's hazing and sometimes good natured teasing about being the rookie and the Probie and whilst Gibbs had let the majority of it slide without so much a reprimand or a comment to Tony, Gibbs had also known just how much Tim had suffered for it; as team leader, he had been the one to receive the call about the near call of a homophobic attack upon the youngest male agent and how he had finally found out that it had been Tony who had spread the rumour to the ladies down in Legal that Tim was homosexual, which, whilst Don't Ask, Don't Tell wasn't even being considered as being repealed, was not a particularly smart thing to go blabbering about; the navy and the marines may be lenient in some subjects, but even Gibbs, as an honourably discharged marine knew the types of things that some soldiers had been subjected too just because of their sexual orientation.

To think that Tim could have suffered something like that was not pleasant and Gibbs had resolved to have a nice long talk too Tony.

Shaking his head to get rid of such thoughts, Gibbs slide a stealthy arm around Tims small waist and allowed himself to take the majority of the yawning mans considerably lighter weight and managed to haul both of them up the stairs to the unlocked front door. He had considered getting locks, but had decided that whilst the house was his place of residence, he was barely home as it was and really, there wasn't nothing of great important dwelling within the house.

But as he placed a still yawning and pale faced Tim onto the lumpy couch where a thick blanket and several pillows were waiting from where he usually slept, Gibbs put deep consideration into getting those locks now; if Tim was going to be staying here, especially for protection detail which Gibbs was purposive to put Tim under, than he may have to consider investing in at least one lock.

Tipping the drooping Tim back onto the couch, Gibbs just shook his head before kneeling down and gently slipping the slowly loosening laces of Tims shoes of his feet, before standing up and placing his hands on Tims shoulders and letting his grey blazer to slip from the thin shoulders.

Watching as Tim listed to the side, head pillowed against the arm of the couch, Gibbs only sighed lowly before folding the blazer and placing it across the back of the arm chair. He shook his head to clear his distancing thoughts, Gibbs only shrugged off his own coat before disappearing out of the living room, his feet dull against the wood of the basement stairs.

Sitting in the heated car, Tony pressed his mouth into a thin line as he hesitated outside Gibbs house. It was dark and the street lamps were casting distorted shadows across both street and cars and he tried not to let the shiver creep up his spine.

As he watched the unmoving house, eyes sharp and hawklike as he felt the worry for Tim that he had managed to suppress since this morning, Tony felt his solar plexus give way as he tried to get his breath under control; despite the fact that Tony was sometimes less than pleasant to the younger man, Tim was his best friend, his little brother and Tony was protective of those he considered family. Sometimes possessively so. Shaking his head, Tony keyed the engine and before leaving, cast a sparing glance to the darkening house where he knew that Tim was in safe hands.

"Stay safe, Tim," he whispered, before pulling away.

Unnoticed by both the people in the house and Tony across the street, Ziva stood stoically, unmoved by the slowly cooling night as she stared dispassionately across the road, eyes set alight upon Gibbs house.

She did not begrudge Tony for coming to Gibbs' house, regardless of the fact whether he had entered or not. She had sometimes remained sceptical of his affections for Tim, and just what his relationship was with the young man but after watching them closely, she had seen them grow and blossom into the brothers they were and if she ever felt the sharp pang of jealousy deep within her gut at watching their relationship, that was her own business.

But what Tony failed to understand, was that Tim was not just his. He was also hers and Ziva, like Tony, was extremely possessive of what she considered hers. Timothy was like her little brother, reminding her of Tali with his endless enthusiasm for learning and his wide, bright features.

Though only in the back shades of her mind, did Ziva admit to herself that the reason she had been unreasonably cold to Tim even after he was the first to welcome her to the team was because of that fact; was that Timothy McGee reminded her so irrevocably of Tali that sometimes Ziva would loose herself to her memories, of before Tali was killed and before Ziva knew just what type of man Ari truly was.

But now, almost five years on, Tim had grown into one of her closest confidants and would always remain there. Timothy was her little brother, hers to protect and hers to defend and whilst she would die for any of them, Tim held a special place within her heart because of his reminiscent ideology of Tali.

She pressed a trembling hand to her Star of David necklace, dove dark eyes narrow. " Shalom uv'racha, achi," She pressed her two fore fingers to her lips than her heart before turning on her heel.

The repetitive sound of sand paper against slowly smoothing wood gave him a sort of came that very little else allowed him to feel. It allowed his head to become so focused, that he very rarely heard anything that happened around him, which was sometimes a detriment to him but in this precise moment, it was exactly what he needed.

He was not sure who he was angry at, only that his anger was slowly siphoning away with every downward sand. He thought he was angry at Ziva and Tony and Abby, who had yet to find any trace of this mysterious A. Miller, but perhaps he was angry at this A. Miller himself, for being so stealthy and so professional that it had allowed him to fly under the grid and yet, still disturb the precarious peace that his team had fallen into after everything they had been through.

But most of all, he was more angry at himself rather than anybody else. He was team leader, he was expected to protect and defend his team whenever something bad happens; to find out that something like this had happened right in an agents apartment, right under his nose was ghastly. To think that Gibbs had allowed one of his agents to go home, alone and unprotected even after receiving numerous threatening or stalking-like messages was something he did not tolerate; especially when it had lead to the terrorisation of the said agent.

In his anger, he began to sand harder the wood creaking ominously beneath his strong hands. But his anger reached its peak and he span, throwing the sanding paper and its block clear across the room where it landed on the floor with an in satisfyingly quiet thump. It had done nothing to relief him of his all consuming anger.

His anger seemed to drain out of him, leaving his looking much older and much more worn than usual. Slumping in on himself, he stomped towards the discarded sanding block and paper, tossing them uncharacteristically carelessly onto his workshop station.

Sighing, placing calloused hands against the wooden workstation, Gibbs seemed to collapse in on himself. The tedious peace seemed to have broken for his team and he knew, just knew that Tim would most likely be blaming himself; because thats what Tim generally did.

He took the blame for things he didn't do and was often the one being punished for the mistakes of others. When he cast his mind back, there was one such incident; when Abby had been stalked and Gibbs had placed Tim in charge of the protection for Abby. It had only been when he had near interrogated Abby that she had spilt the beans; about how Tim had told her how he was going to lock the door behind him and how she should check who is was, about how she had forgotten her toothbrush and refused to use one of the ones in the apartment. How she had opened the door and how the stalker had gained entrance. How it had been Tim who had been punished for Abby's mistake.

Blowing out an angry breath that gave him the impression of being a rhinoceros, Gibbs shook his head again and violently unscrewed a jar, dumping the screws carelessly onto the work bench before grasping the bottle of bourbon, pouring a healthy amount before knocking it back, the alcoholic drink burning his throat and warming his stomach.

He stayed there for a moment, lost in both his memories and the dark in his minds eye.

It was dark when Tim began to rouse, tossing and turning restlessly upon the surprisingly comfortable couch. As his Irish greens opened blearily, he stayed still staring silently up at the white washed ceiling as he tried to collect his thoughts.

He was still at Gibbs, though where the man was Tim was unsure. But he could bet that the man was most likely in this basement and as he stood up, heading towards the kitchen, the lack of plates or cups made it obvious that neither man had had any source of sustenance within the few hours of which Tim was unaccounted for.

Shaking his head but knowing his the elder man was about such things, it was with automatic movements that Tim set about putting the coffee on, grabbing a large, circular mug before hesitating. Would Gibbs want coffee? Tim remembered from when Tony and Ziva was telling him that Gibbs kept a bottle of bourbon in the basement and had most likely gathered a glass to have a swig of the bourbon.

Still unsure but even more unsure of making Gibbs angry, Tim grabbed a mug for himself settling in to watch the dark black coffee slowly heat. Watching the coffee pot also gave Tim a lot of time to think.

One of the most apprehensive thoughts he had, was about place upon the team; before him, team Gibbs had been made up predominately of strong, domineering personalities that had sometimes clashed but had become close over the working years. Whilst they may not have he the computer knowledge or background, academic or otherwise, that Tim may have had they had gotten along just fine with bringing a TA from the Cybercrimes Unit. After this, this debacle with A. Miller and the like, would his place still be upon the team? Or would Director Vance see fit to split them up again, but only moving Tim back down to Cybercrimes?

The dinging of the coffee pot, signalling its ready rang through the air and pulled Tim from his rather chaotic thoughts.

Pouring the coffee -the thick black coffee that Tony had unaffectionately nicknamed sludge - into the aforementioned mug, Tim wrapped shaking hands around the steaming mug and pulled a large breath of the fumes, feeling it sink into his bones and wrap around his stomach.

Leaning against side cabinet for a moment, he jumped when he heard a dull thump. It was quiet and barely noticeable, but to Tims sharp ears, heightened by the quietness surrounding him, it was almost extraordinarily loud.

Tilting his head and making sure his long, thin hands were wrapped around the large mug, it was with a sort of curious trepidation that Tim ventured forth to the slightly open door that he remembered led down to the basement.b

Silently, his feet dull against the wood he clambered down the stairs the smell of wood strong in his nose, mixing with the sour scent of bourbon. He stood for a moment, staring at Gibbs' profile, how he looked worn and tire even as he gulped down another swig of bourbon from a screw jar. An errant piece of sanding paper and its block were carelessly left out and it made alarm bells ring in Tims mind; whilst Gibbs wasn't generally, all around tidy he was almost pedantic about his wood working tools.

"Boss?" His voice was quiet, raw from disuse but it made Gibbs, unaware of anything but himself at the time being, startle, slopping a small amount of bourbon onto the concrete floor.

"McGee," he said, turning to the younger man, screw jar glass still in hand. "Feelin' any better?"

He shrugged, uncommitted. Gibbs sighed at the lack of answer.

"Bourbon?" He gestured with his screw jar and made a motion as if to pour into the black coffee that Tim was gulping down, the steam still rising from it. Clutching the mug to him, Tim shook his head. "No thank you, I don't drink-"

Gibbs, catching where Tim had cut himself off, pounced, eyebrow raising as he gestured for Tim to sit down on the stood just at the end of the work station. Tm sank down gratefully. "Don't drunk- what?"

Tims face hardened and Gibbs felt worry rising in his stomach at the uncharacteristic expression. But as Tim opened his mouth, he closed it just as quickly. "My- nothing," he uttered unconvincingly and Gibbs gut clenched.

"Tim-" Gibbs said, his tone hard and just this side of both warning and worry.

Tm sighed, looking down into his depleting mug of navy coffee. "My parents," he offered in a low tone and Gibbs felt his eyebrows raise as such a broad comment.

"Your parents, what?" He had a feeling he knew exactly were is was going, but was going to wait and coax the answer out of Tim, so that Tim could truly come to terms to it, because judging by the tightening of Tims strong jawline, perhaps he harboured more anger and hate than he was actually aware.

"The Admiral was - not the best parent. Sure, he was pretty neglectful and drank more than an average sailor, pretty much alcoholic but he worked; he was a fine soldier, according to his CO and cared for his family in his own way- that was enough for me when- " he stuttered to a halt, voice dropping completely as he hesitated, still looking stubbornly into his mug of coffee

Now very concerned and trying not to show it in its entirely, Gibbs placed his screw jar of bourbon on the work surface and knelt in front of the younger man , a hand coming down to rest on the bak of Tims neck in a comforting gesture.

"Take your time, son," Gibbs offered comfortingly, gruff voice softening just a tad.

Tim, pale skin even paler as he stared at Gibbs, swallowed heavily and tried to ignore the embarrassment he could feel welling up in the pit of his stomach. "When he started to hit me,"

"Damnit!" Gibbs cursed breath his breath, making Tim flinch against him. Suddenly changing directions, Gibbs pulled Tim forward until their foreheads where touching and Gibbs could speak solely to Tim. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Tim shrugged.

"Was it because we all thought that you were the only one with a normal childhood?" As callous as it sounded, it was the only plausible and rational way that Gibbs could put it, still staring into Tims Irish gaze.

He sighed, slumping forward into Gibbs. " Tony was always going on about how nice it was that McProbie had a wonderful childhood and how it would be nice for me to have both parents, that it seemed more logical to allow Tony the view that I had an idyllic childhood-"

"But you didn't, did you ?" Gibbs softly interrupted and it was enough to almost reduce the younger man to tears.

He shook his head, glazed eyes still staring at Gibbs even as the mug of coffee cooled in his hand. "The Admiral was a hard man to live with, he was always telling me to do better and that if I never applied myself, I would always end up with failures and that tidiness, whilst a good thing to have, wouldn't help me in my later life. He didn't even care when I was shown to be OCD within some areas of tidiness, simply saying it was an excuse," taking a deep breath and trying not to let the bourbon reach his senses carrie on. "Mom skipped out pretty early on, drug and alcohol problems when I was ten and from then, with the Admiral pretty much hyped up on the drink or always out at sea, I was in charge of looking after Sarah, though Penny stepped in, saying how disgusted she was at her son and his good-for-nothing-wife,"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, encouraging Tim to get on with it. It did not escape his notice that not once, did Tim call Admiral Victor McGee 'father'. Rather it was the Admiral.

"But you've met Penny, she isn't really a mom, no matter who the family was and she was always running off, sometimes with Sarah to such and such and always wanted to see the world; sometimes I wonder whether Sarah had inherited her streak for trouble. Certainly seems like it,"

Gibbs had to smile at the grumble. Sarah McGee was very much like her brother in the way that both were stubborn and hard headed, but whilst Tim was quiet and polite, Sarah was very brusque and strong headed not minding if she stepped on anyone's toes whilst I'm the way of getting what she wanted. She was not someone he would want to cross, if he had been a weaker man.

"Than it came time to explain to the Admiral that due to the car accident when I was sixteen and because of the inner ear imbalance, I couldn't carry on with the five generations of navy or marine McGees, which he took as a slap on the family honour. He didn't even seem to care that I'd got accepted to MIT or anything of the sort; the only thing he wanted the most was for me to be on a goddarn ship in a navy uniform,"

Gibbs rubbed the back of McGees neck soothingly, still staring at the younger man. "What happened next?"

The grin on Tims face was wry and not at all pleasant. "He almost put me back in traction," Gibbs eyes widened, both outraged and shocked. "I was still on crutches and in a cast because I broke my left femur. He literally sat on it and damaged it again,"

"Sonofabitch," Gibbs breathed beneath his breath and he felt an anger he had only felt once well up in both his heart and his mind; that bastard of a father had hurt his only son in a way that had almost put him back in traction. If Gibbs ever met this so called Admiral, he would be suffering from more than an acute hangover.

"Boss-" Tim hesitated, blowing a breath before stalling for time a little, taking a large gulp of coffee, his grimace the only indication that it had gone cold. "I haven't spoken to my father in seven years. Until Penny said I should contact him,"

"Did it end well?" Gibbs asked, voice soft as he continued staring at Tim, legs aching after staying on one place to long. "He- he told me how much of a coward I was, how he didn't want to talk to the traitor of a son- he -he told me he didn't have a son,"

Closing his eyes as Tim finally fell prey to the tears that had been plaguing him since beginning his story, Gibbs stood pulling Tim with him and using the strength that he usually used for throwing around criminals or suspects, Gibbs managed to gently manhandle Tim so he was leaning fully against Gibbs with a light arm around his shoulders.

Still quivering with silent tears, the way up from the basement was absolutely silent, the noise rudely disrupted by the disturbance of air displacement around their feet.

"C'mon Tim, to bed you go," Gibbs muttered, placing the cold mug of coffee on the cabinet in the kitchen. Hauling both of them into the living room, Gibbs listed Tim only the couch again, the man still silently crying as he stared up at Gibbs in a way that made the elder mans breath catch. Gibbs pulled the thick blanket over Tim and was just about to pull away when a deceptively strong hand crept out.

"Please- stay," Gibbs didn't even waiver, only smiled sadly down at Tim and allowed the younger man to keep a grasp on his arm as he sat in the armchair next to the couch. His other hand swept over Tims forehead, feeling the abnormal warmth of it.

"Go to sleep, Tim," he murmured quietly, ears pricked for any noises and eyes sharp and narrow, bright in the fading light. "I'll keep watch,"